


Willful Concealment

by RenGoneMad



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon - Manga, Canon Compliant, Getting Together, Hatake Kakashi is Bad at Feelings, Internal Monologue, Love Confessions, M/M, One Night Stands, POV Hatake Kakashi, Pining, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25113316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenGoneMad/pseuds/RenGoneMad
Summary: “Are you planning to keep my hair tie?” Iruka asked suddenly, a hint of amusement in his voice.“I’m holding it prisoner for crimes against the citizens of Konoha.”“What are the charges?”Kakashi smiled, twirling the band around his forefinger like a kunai. “Perjury and willful concealment.”Iruka huffed and shook his head, lips thinning in a way that made Kakashi think he was holding back a grin. “You know, if I’d realized you had such a thing for long hair, I would have started wearing mine down years ago.”Kakashi’s thumb caught the hair band, halting its revolution.“Years?”(Or, in which Iruka asks for a single night, and gets a whole lot more.)
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka
Comments: 88
Kudos: 1109





	Willful Concealment

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: NSFW for explicit sex. 
> 
> Mostly, this is an exercise in Kakashi's ability to over-analyze and find a million ways to blame himself in a two seconds flat, and Iruka's unique talent for turning that on it's head. 
> 
> I'm an absolute sucker for One-Night Stand and Friends with Benefits tropes, so here we go with that. >.>
> 
> Remember people, safe sex is sexy sex. <3 These guys don't use condoms because the technology and medicine in the Naruto world is weird enough I can do whatever I want, but in this world, keep it safe.

The Jōnin Standby Station had seen better days. Since Orochimaru’s attack, the shinobi were overworked and understaffed, leaving the few forced to inhabit it in a poor mood that was more conducive to tossing kunai into the doorframe than sitting quietly and waiting to be called on. Kakashi might have been in the same boat without _Icha Icha_ to keep him company. Between his beloved erotica and the subtle but persistent ache of recovering from chakra depletion, Kakashi was willing to kick up his feet and relax while waiting for the next village-wide disaster rather than devote himself to giving the repair crews of Konoha even more work to do. 

Besides, he might as well enjoy the few days of relative downtime he was getting, because Tsunade would no doubt have him on another solo S-rank before the week’s end. For a supposedly reputed medical-nin, she didn’t have a single nerve cluster of empathy in her generous bosom. Not that Kakashi normally appreciated soft hearts in medics—he had given himself field stitches without anesthesia more than once—but there was something to be said for a shinobi’s mental health, as well. Tsunade’s attitude reminded Kakashi of the medics in ANBU, a time and place he had no desire to return to. 

He would take solo S-ranks any day over that. 

“Yo,” Kakashi greeted Asuma with a lazy wave as the man entered. The dark circles beneath Asuma’s eyes and rumpled clothes spoke of someone who had thrown them on for the third day in a row. Unfortunately, it was probably due to the insane mission schedule rather than pleasant nights sneaking out of Kurenai’s apartment. The man grunted wordlessly and shuffled over to the coffee pot, pouring a sizeable serving of thick tar into an almost clean mug. “Taking over?”

“Get your ass out of here, Kakashi.” Asuma grunted, lips twisting in a grimace as he swallowed the bitter sludge like it was one of Guy’s protein shakes. It probably wasn’t much better, judging by how long it had been sitting on the burner. Kakashi forewent caffeine entirely during his shift rather than brave the task of cleaning it out. “Kurenai will be here in a few minutes to relieve you, Aoba.” 

Aoba nodded, turning a page in his magazine while Kakashi rose from the threadbare couch, stretching his arms over his head until he felt his weary joints pop. 

“Tsunade’s been running by looking for someone to yell at every couple hours. So don’t do anything with Kurenai you wouldn’t want our Godaime to see.” Kakashi clapped a hand on Asuma’s shoulder as he slouched out of the room. Asuma clicked his tongue, it was a marked sign of his exhaustion that he didn’t bother trying to correct the insinuation. He did try to hide his blush behind the coffee mug, unsuccessfully. 

Maybe the couple had finally realized that trying to keep a relationship secret in Konoha was tantamount to Shizune’s routine efforts to purge the sake from the Godaime’s office: futile and naive at best. 

The Jōnin Standby Station’s windows didn’t open without property damage, but it had two doors connecting to the interior of Hokage Tower and the outside world. Kakashi took the latter, one hand shoved in his pocket as he turned North towards the jōnin barracks, the other holding his customary smutty shield in front of his masked nose. 

The sun had long since set. Shinobi and civilians scurried through the streets like cockroaches, gathering in the bright points of light underneath streetlights or in shop windows. Only Kakashi’s awareness of his current teaspoon’s worth of chakra kept him from taking to the rooftops, in eagerness to get to his apartment and the leftover stir-fry that lay within. 

He regretted that awareness when someone fell into step next to him. 

Kakashi turned a page. Reading smut in public was normally an adequate deterrent to meaningless conversation. 

“Good evening, Kakashi-sensei.” Kakashi glanced over to see Umino Iruka wasn’t looking at him. However, his pace matched Kakashi’s indolent gait rather than the chūnin’s usual brisk walk, meaning he had something more to say. 

A pity. Kakashi hadn’t spoken to him since Naruto left the village to train with Jiraiya months prior, but if he had to choose a time for social pleasantries, it wouldn’t have been while the pull of reheated food and his own bed were so strong on his mind. 

Likely though, Iruka was acting in an official capacity. Other than small talk about their mutual students over the mission desk, they hadn’t shared a real conversation since the teacher apologized for his actions at the chūnin nomination meeting, during a one-minute, coincidental meeting at _The Sharpened Kunai_. 

Kakashi couldn’t think of a reason to break the silence now, when he had so disastrously failed three of Iruka’s beloved students. He held _Icha Icha_ up a bit higher.

“Iruka-sensei.” 

His hopes for a quick, informational sentence and departure were dashed when Iruka continued. 

“Can I walk with you?” 

Kakashi paid more attention to the chūnin from his periphery, noting the tense set of his shoulders, the stiff line of his spine, the bounce of his perfectly-restrained ponytail. He was either anxious or angry. Given that Iruka could outclass Naruto in volume when he wanted to, Kakashi would bet on the former. 

“I don’t mind.” Kakashi gave a one-shouldered shrug. 

Iruka nodded sharply, but didn’t continue. 

They walked in silence for a few minutes, only the sounds of turning pages and Iruka’s footsteps between them. They were nearing the residential district when Iruka gave in. “You have a few more days in the village?”

“Mm.” Kakashi hummed an agreement. “The Academy is still closed?”

“We’re operating classes on half-days so the instructors can rotate running missions. I’m leaving for one tomorrow.”

“Long one?”

“Yes.” Iruka hesitated, then seemed to steel his nerves. “Actually, that’s part of why I was looking for you.”

Kakashi tilted his head to the side and prompted in a bored monotone. “Oh?”

“I, um.” Iruka’s steps faltered as they crossed under a streetlamp, then stopped entirely, planting himself on the sidewalk. Kakashi paused, half-turning to examine him. He caught the bob of Iruka’s throat as he swallowed, noted the rising of his chin as he lifted his eyes to meet Kakashi’s. “I wondered if you would spend the evening with me.”

Huh. 

Kakashi memorized the page number and snapped the book shut.

There were many ways to interpret that sentence, and at least several of them were innocuous in nature. 

He now saw the darkened tint to Iruka’s cheeks, the way his fists clenched around nothing as he stood stiffly. 

Raising a hand, Kakashi rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Maa,” he started lightly, eye curving into a smile that wasn’t half as bewildered as he felt. “I’m not really the best date, Iruka-sensei—”

Kakashi had expected an immediate dismissal and exasperated explanation, but he received neither. Iruka’s gaze held and he replied nearly instantly, as if he had been anticipating that exact joke and already memorized his response by heart. “That’s not what I’m asking for.” 

Turning fully, Kakashi tilted his head, eye narrowing as he considered the wording. Iruka didn’t say that a date wasn’t what he _wanted_ —just that he wasn’t _asking_ for it. It was an interesting distinction, and the certainty in Iruka’s tone made him think it was an intentional one. Kakashi’s tongue darted out to lick his dry lips beneath his mask. His heart beat faster, wary curiosity pushing him to take a step forward. “What are you asking for, then?”

Iruka’s cheeks were nearly as dark as his eyes now, but he didn’t look away or demur, head held high. “Come home with me.” 

This was not how Kakashi had expected the night to go. 

“Why, sensei, are you propositioning me?”

A deep intake of breath, but no uncertainty. “Yes.” 

Looking back, Kakashi tried to think that he should have seen this coming, but he really hadn’t. To him, Iruka was a fringe existence, a blur on the outer edges of his vision that rarely came into focus. He’d handed in reports to the man since leaving ANBU and vaguely noticed him when observing students at the academy for potential genin teams, but he had never cared enough to look deeper. He got the impression of an uptight desk-worker. A stickler for neat kana in reports, who had impressive lung power when screaming at the jinchuuriki across the village. 

He hadn’t even remembered Iruka’s name until he was forced to listen to Naruto wax poetic about his former sensei during every mission. Honestly, Kakashi presumed most of Naruto’s accolades for the man, and his constant references to how Iruka was _smart, and nice, and on time, and not lazy or perverted at all, unlike a certain jōnin-sensei_ , was just childish hero worship for one of the few people that didn’t treat the boy like shit. Well, and a way to insult Kakashi by proxy, which almost none of Team Seven could pass up the opportunity to do.

Perhaps that fact was exactly why Kakashi should have paid more attention: Iruka _didn’t_ treat Naruto like trash, and he made no secret of that. Kakashi had seen them at _Ichiraku’s_ more than once, heard a few whispered rumors regarding someone taking in the village outcast. Someone willing to withstand the hatred directed towards the Kyuubi’s vessel clearly cared about more than rules and appearances. That was also made clear by Iruka’s harsh challenge during the chūnin exam, his willingness to stand up to not just Kakashi the Copy-Nin, but three respected jōnin and the Hokage himself. 

More interesting even than that was his willingness to apologize to Kakashi afterwards. Even if he was half to drunk and more forceful than strictly necessary, it seemed genuine. 

Kakashi wished he could forgive himself as easily as Iruka seemed to have. 

He should have looked twice at Iruka long before now, but he hadn’t. He had presumed the chūnin’s nervousness and occasional blushing around him were purely due to intimidation or annoyance, two of the most typical reactions he got. Now that he was looking underneath the underneath, he realized there was much more to it. 

For whatever reason, Iruka _liked_ him. There was no scent of alcohol on him, and Kakashi had certainly never given an indication he was interested—yet here Iruka was, standing on a street corner at nine in the evening, deliberately seeking Kakashi out and propositioning him. That spoke to more than a general sexual attraction.

_Why_? 

In the last year, Iruka had been nearly killed defending his precious student from his (if rumors were to be believed) close friend turned traitor. He had lost a friend and mentor in the Sandaime, and who knew how many others in Orochimaru’s attack. With Sasuke’s betrayal and Naruto gone from the village, under Jiraiya’s not-so-reliable care...

It made sense that Iruka wasn’t in the most reserved state of mind.

By all rights, Kakashi should say no. He doubted Iruka was truly interested in just one night. For the sensei to go to such effort, and to honestly ask instead of attempting seduction or picking someone else, someone easier, up from a bar… he was probably asking for one night because he believed that was all Kakashi was willing to give. 

It had been years since the last time Kakashi turned someone down, and it was never a common occurrence. People Kakashi’s age or older remembered the disgrace Sakumo gave to the Hatake name, and the cold, arrogant bastard Kakashi had been in the years after. Young shinobi were intimidated by the Copy-nin’s reputation, or whispers of the ‘Friend-Killer’. Those who didn’t care about rumors were mostly the ones that knew Kakashi personally, and since mystique was his only attractive quality, getting to know him killed any romantic interest in short order. 

There were, of course, the random low-ranks who propositioned him out of ignorant hero-worship or a foolish dare to see under his mask, but they left with only a couple sharp words, and had become increasingly rare over the years. They never warranted actual consideration. 

Iruka must have been in a strange sweet spot: too young to remember Sakumo, too honest to be deceptive, too bold to be in awe, too stubborn to believe in rumors. Too emotional to truly believe that shinobi were nothing but weapons. Too kind to see that death was all Kakashi had to give. Too innocent to see how fucked up Kakashi really was. 

Maybe he would run away if he knew.

“I’ve never thought of you that way.” He wielded the truth with terrible precision. The tightening of Iruka’s jaw showed some effect, but he didn’t waver. 

He would eventually. Naruto wasn’t an easy person to care for, but he was honest and caring to a fault; Kakashi could be the polar opposite of both. Naruto’s demon was something done to him outside of his control; Kakashi’s were self-made.

If Iruka realized those things, he would never offer himself so freely. 

Better to break the illusion before it had time to solidify.

“Sex is nothing more than stress relief to me. It won’t make me return your feelings.” 

Iruka’s brave face did falter then, but not in the way Kakashi expected. Anger burned bright and sharp in his eyes. “I’m not trying to manipulate you, Kakashi-sensei. You are free to feel, or not, whatever you please. I don’t expect—” He broke off, exhaling harshly, lowering his voice where it had started to unconsciously rise. “Take my offer at face value. If you want, I’ll never burden you by mentioning this again. But I’d like a straight answer either way.”

No denial that Iruka _did_ have feelings for him. It seemed he really did know what to expect before asking, and wasn’t laboring under any delusions of a stolen night of passion in which they made love under the stars and woke in each other’s arms the next morning. Not that Kakashi was opposed to such a thing in principle—he didn’t honestly read trashy romance and smut for the plot—but he wouldn’t know how to do it himself if he tried. He wasn’t made for soft moments and domestic scenes. 

Iruka didn’t want pity, delusion, or false sentiments. He was too earnest for that, too headstrong to play the kind of mind games Kakashi used to survive. 

_So that was where Naruto learned it from._

Despite himself, Kakashi found himself wondering what a night with Iruka would be like. 

He was so… rigid. Formal. From his ponytail with nary a hair out of place, to the kunai-straight lines of his uniform, to the proper honorifics (even if Kakashi didn’t really deserve the -sensei anymore), Iruka was the very definition of stiff. None of those adjectives were ones Kakashi associated with sex. He was half afraid Iruka would slap Kakashi’s wrist with a ruler if he tried to get handsy. 

But… Iruka wasn’t unattractive. His tanned skin was smooth and bronzed, his eyes dark and expressive. The scar that bisected his features begged Kakashi to run his thumb over it. He had strong shoulders and a pleasing jawline, slender cheekbones that should have paired with his long hair to make him seem feminine, but were counteracted by his rough voice, broad palms, and slim hips. He stood nearly as tall as Kakashi, and at least a few pounds of muscle heavier.

He remembered absently noting years ago that Iruka had a pleasant laugh; throaty and free and so expansive it filled the space around him like smoke in a champagne glass. 

There hadn’t been much laughter in Konoha lately. 

It would be nice to hear Iruka laugh again. 

Hmm. Perhaps Kakashi had taken more notice than he thought.

The red hue spread across Iruka’s face during Kakashi’s apparently too-lengthy perusal, radiating to his ears and down his neck. His jaw flexed and his mouth flattened like a starched bedsheet. “I’m sorry if I—”

Kakashi’s hand moved of its own accord. There was still a good two feet of space separating them, but Kakashi closed it in an instant. He drew near enough to feel a hint of Iruka’s body heat, to catch the faint scent of sage that must come from his soap or shampoo. He brushed Iruka’s cheekbone with pale fingertips. The skin was hot under Kakashi’s callouses, blood warming the surface. Iruka’s breath audibly hitched, words dying on his lips, but he remained still as Kakashi’s knuckles stoked across his jaw and over his neck, under his ear. 

In one smooth motion, Kakashi slid the tie from Iruka’s hair. 

Long strands fell to brush his shoulders, gentle waves that framed Iruka’s face and softened him by years. The tresses were thick and silky between Kakashi’s fingers. He rubbed his thumb along the strands, marveling at the contrast of alabaster and dark hickory. Iruka’s pupils dilated and his lips parted, inhaling deeply as a fine shiver ran down his body. 

It was Iruka’s expression as much as anything else that transformed him from what Kakashi might have described as merely _cute_ to… _alluring_. He was struck by a strange appreciation that Iruka was _allowing_ him to touch, allowing him to remove his defenses right here in the street, where anyone passing could see the schoolteacher blushing, hair loose and caught in Kakashi’s hand. 

Iruka _wanted_ this. 

And Kakashi wanted to know what other looks he could draw from Iruka.

Suddenly, he didn’t have any trouble imagining the next step. 

He slipped the hair tie around his wrist, feeling the barest hint of pressure from it through the leather of his glove, and took a step back. He shoved his hands in his pockets. His fingertips tingled, begging to be allowed to touch again—instead, he smiled, visible eye curving into an arch, and slipped his book into a pouch on his hip. “Lead the way.”

They walked in silence, Kakashi deliberately evoking a casual air even as his eye was constantly drawn to his companion, who seemed to have depleted his courage for words. The silence might have been tense to Iruka, but it gave Kakashi time to reconsider his decision, to ponder the ethics of sleeping with someone who likely wanted more than Kakashi was willing to give. 

And time to enjoy the view of Iruka from behind. Uniform pants weren’t the most form-fitting, but Iruka’s thighs made the best of them. Kakashi would consider himself insane for not noticing Iruka’s ass before today, but looking back, he couldn’t recall many times they had been in the same room and Iruka hadn’t been facing towards him. 

That probably meant something.

Kakashi thought of Iruka’s harsh rebukes to jōnin who thought they could get away with shoddy reports; of Iruka tying Naruto up with rope and carrying him halfway across Konoha to clean the stone faces; of his indignant disagreement with the chūnin exam nominations; of the way his arms wrapped lovingly around Konohamaru during the Sandaime’s funeral; of the reckless courage it must have taken for him to approach Kakashi without alcohol or adrenaline to pathe the way.

Iruka wasn’t a teenage girl in love. He was a shinobi, but more than that, he had internal strength. He knew who he was, what he believed, what he wanted. If he asked for this from Kakashi, knowing it wouldn’t be anything more, then Kakashi couldn’t belittle him by pretending he knew Iruka’s emotions better than the man himself.

Iruka mentioned that his mission was part of the reason he approached Kakashi. It wasn’t hard to understand what he meant. For most of ANBU, and Kakashi himself, the default mode was fight, meaning running towards danger was easier than learning to let go of those instincts once back home. But for people like Iruka, who had daily routines and tended towards defense rather than offense, the difficulty was leaving rather than returning. While Kakashi forced himself each time to remember his reasons for coming back to Konoha, Iruka had to find reasons to leave.

Or perhaps he just figured a long mission would give them both time to forgive and forget if Kakashi rejected him. It wasn’t a terrible strategy, but Kakashi had a long memory.

The moon shone beams of silvery light through Iruka’s blinds as he shut his front door behind them. Kakashi took in the apartment with a brief survey as they removed their shoes. He noted possible exits, the tidy but far from fastidiously clean state of the living room, the mass of ungraded papers and stains from broken pens past that littered the kotatsu, the open doorway that lead to a tiny, seemingly unused kitchen. A plant with wilting leaves sat on the windowsill, and a few children’s drawings were framed on the walls. A long shelf of odd knick-knacks ran over the couch: trinkets like dried flowers, a set of calligraphy brushes, a handmade #1 Teacher plaque, and an ancient tanto. Probably a mixture of family heirlooms and gifts from his students, though Kakashi couldn’t fathom why the two groupings would share the same space.

Iruka didn’t hesitate in leading Kakashi to the bedroom. It was dimly illuminated by two lamps, one on the nightstand beside the neatly-made bed, and another on the bookcase in the opposite corner. The entire apartment smelled of black tea and ink, except for the bedroom; here, it was a bland scent reminiscent of silicone. It wasn’t overwhelming, but Kakashi found himself missing sage.

He didn’t allow Iruka time to become flustered. This part, he knew how to do. Pressing Iruka until his back hit the wall, Kakashi worked on unzipping the man’s vest, pushing it down his shoulders until Iruka complied and let it fall to the ground.

Both of them wore the Konoha uniform at all times, and Iruka clearly hadn’t changed that no matter his intentions. Kakashi wore it because he defined himself by his service to Konoha; taking off the uniform wouldn’t change anything, because there was no civilian mode to Kakashi, no other part of himself to fall back on. The shinobi overrode the man.

Also, it was easier than buying his own clothes. 

If he had cared enough to give it thought before, he would have seen Iruka’s insistence on constant, proper attire as another sign of his inflexible nature. Now, he wanted to know the real reason. He wondered if Iruka viewed the uniform as a confine, a different person from the passionate, unbridled person Kakashi saw now, or if Iruka was too honest to think of it as a cloak at all. Perhaps he never changed because there was no difference to him, because Iruka couldn’t imagine being anything other than exactly what he was. 

He wondered.

It wasn’t a burning desire. Not anything that Kakashi couldn’t shove aside if he wanted. 

But he wondered.

Either way, he appreciated that Iruka was wearing his normal uniform, hitai-ate and all. Kakashi had never thought of the olive green and dark blues as particularly attractive, but that was actually the point. He liked that Iruka didn’t try to coyly seduce him, didn’t make himself into anything that he wasn’t in order to get Kakashi’s interest. If he had, Kakashi probably wouldn’t have followed him at all. 

The blush hadn’t left Iruka’s cheeks since his first word to Kakashi, but it was joined now by dilated pupils and a tremble to tanned fingers as he reached up to slide off his own hitai-ate. Tossing it lightly on the nightstand, he returned the favor of shedding Kakashi’s vest, wisely leaving the mask and headband alone without comment.

Kakashi trailed his fingers up Iruka’s sides as he dragged up the standard-issue shirt, revealing strong muscles and smooth skin that hadn’t seen enough time in the field to accumulate the number of scars Kakashi’s had. The ones there were neatly healed, properly treated in a way that couldn’t always occur in the field. Either Iruka had a medic as good as Rin on all of his teams, or the majority of the scars were gained in the village, no doubt by hasty pre-genin with shuriken and clumsy little fingers. 

Iruka’s abdominals tensed as he raised his arms to get the shirt over his head. Kakashi splayed a hand over his waist to feel the play of movement there, the definition that evidenced regular training. Genuine interest started to warm Kakashi’s blood, pooling in his stomach and making every sense sharper, cleaner. 

Biting the edge of one glove through his mask, Kakashi swiftly stripped it with his teeth. A low sound caught in Iruka’s throat, prodding Kakashi’s lust like a poker to a fire, sparks flying up in its wake.

“How—” Iruka started in a rasp. 

He paused as Kakashi stepped away, but he was back (with only a _small_ burst of chakra) before Iruka could ask. His shirt, vest, and accoutrements were discarded on the reading chair beside the bookcase, though his back-up mask covered everything from the base of his throat to the bridge of his nose. He normally used the one sewn into his shirts, but he always carried an independent spare. To date, it had come in handy for a few fire jutsu, one acid-spewing beetle summons, a woman with claws on her fingers, and tricking his genin team. Now, he could add sex to that list.

Iruka drank in Kakashi’s revealed skin as the jōnin stripped the other glove and stepped back in, slipping his thigh between Iruka’s and threading fingers in his hair. He left the tie, a single line of black around his slender wrist, because Iruka’s gaze lingered on it for a long second before rising. Iruka cleared his throat and continued, just as hoarse as before. “How do you want to do this?”

Kakashi hummed in thought. He trailed a hand down Iruka’s waist to land on his hip, dragging him across Kakashi’s thigh in a way that made the younger man gasp. Kakashi’s heart thrummed steadily in his bones. He leaned in and Iruka’s hands went to his biceps. Their bare skin brushed as Kakashi brought his masked lips to Iruka’s ear. 

“You tell me, sensei.” He dragged his lips across Iruka’s pulse point, eye closing as he bathed in the warmth of Iruka’s body against his. He had only had unclothed sex once in his life, and Iruka ran hotter than seemed humanly possible. In more ways than one. The double entendre curled Kakashi’s mouth into a smile. “What have you imagined?” 

Kakashi flicked open the button of Iruka’s pants. His grip clenched gratifyingly tight around Kakashi’s arms in response. 

Iruka was quiet for a long moment. Then, he slid one hand down the inside of Kakashi’s elbow, wrapping around his wrist. He dragged Kakashi’s hand off his hip, and for a heart-stopping moment, Kakashi thought he had changed his mind.

Then, half-lidded eyes met his, and Iruka’s warm breath fanned against his knuckles. He rubbed the center of Kakashi’s palm with his thumb, and, slowly and deliberately, wrapped plush lips around Kakashi’s forefinger. 

Soft warmth enveloped him. Iruka’s tongue curled around him, a suggestion, and a promise. Lava trickled down Kakashi’s ribs to pool in his groin, heatwaves crashing inside him as Iruka sucked, his cheeks hollowing for a tantalizing moment. Kakashi watched, entranced, lust clogging his throat and lungs.

Iruka rested Kakashi’s fingerprint on his bottom lip as he pulled back, allowing Kakashi to feel the words as they fell. 

“Let me blow you.” He whispered. “Then, I wanna ride you.”

If Kakashi had never had fantasies about Iruka before this, he definitely would after. 

A minor, nearly ignorable twinge of misgiving snaked into his mind as the words registered. He wondered if those suggestions were actually Iruka’s fantasies, or if he was saying what he thought Kakashi wanted to hear. After all, those were basically the ingredients for the quintessential male fantasy, minus lingerie and bouncing breasts. 

Kakashi didn’t mind the subtractions at all.

Well, he wasn’t about to turn an offer like that down. He justified his selfishness by reassuring himself that he was a perceptive enough partner to make it good for Iruka, that he could suggest a change or stop things altogether if Iruka wasn’t enjoying it.

That argument would hold a lot more weight if Kakashi had noticed this infatuation in the first place, but… Kakashi could see it _now_. Now, he was looking below the surface, and there was nothing about Iruka that seemed unwilling. 

Also, he really, really wanted those lips on him again.

“ _Yes_.” 

With Kakashi’s fervent agreement, Iruka regained some of his characteristic fire. He pushed Kakashi with palms on his chest. Kakashi went with the motion, letting himself be guided back until his legs hit the bed. Iruka pushed down Kakashi’s pants and boxer briefs with quick efficiency. Sitting back on the bed, Kakashi helped by undoing the wraps on one leg while Iruka sank to his knees to start on the other.

That sight alone, Iruka mostly-naked with brown skin flushed and lips moist and thighs spread as he knelt between Kakashi’s legs, was more than enough to convince Kakashi that this night would be worth the delay of both dinner and sleep.

After they tossed the wraps aside, Iruka slid his hands up Kakashi’s calves. His mouth curved in a small, genuine smile.

Then he wrapped a hand around Kakashi half-hard cock, closed his eyes, and licked. 

Quickly, Kakashi returned eager fingers to Iruka’s hair, exhaling shakily as he leant back on his other hand and memorized the sight before him. 

Kakashi might have taken aloof to an extreme, but he would have noticed if Iruka had ever looked at him like _this_. 

Iruka took his time tonguing the slit and shaft. He treated Kakashi with unfamiliar, deliberate care, spreading his saliva as lubricant before taking the head into his mouth. Kakashi didn’t try to guide him in any way, mindful to exert no pressure, but he caressed the silky strands and rubbed Iruka’s scalp in slow circles that earned him a pleased sigh. The sound made a happy bubble expand in Kakashi’s chest, so he repeated the motion, hoping to draw out more.

Iruka suddenly sank down to the root, enveloping him in snug, exquisite heat. 

Iruka’s mouth was blissfully soft, his lips tucked carefully around his teeth. It wasn’t his first blowjob. Kakashi raked his fingernails against Iruka’s scalp, prompting a soft moan. The vibrations cradled his cock and made his breath come hot and fast through his mask. 

He almost wished he could open his sharingan for a single second, just long enough to capture the pink of Iruka’s lips, the slick shine around his mouth, and the curve of his neck as he started to bob.

“Hn,” Kakashi choked off a groan, gray eye half-lidded as he watched Iruka. “You’re… _good_.” He murmured the praise, definitely referring to the night in general as well as the divine swirl of Iruka’s tongue. Iruka shifted on his knees restlessly, and pulled off just long enough to give Kakashi a delighted smile, before returning to his task. 

That smile warmed Kakashi’s cheeks and stuck in his ribs.

Kakashi had always thought of this act as lewd and filthy (in a good way, of course). But this wasn’t. Erotic and sinful, absolutely. But the way Iruka reacted to Kakashi’s hand in his hair, to the way his thumb stroked the curve of Iruka’s chin, made it feel less like Iruka was doing something _for_ Kakashi, and more like… sex. Mutual. Like Iruka was getting as much from this as he was. 

Occasionally, he glanced up at Kakashi with damp eyes, and it was probably a sign that Kakashi was even more of a romantic than he had known, because he imagined dazedly that Iruka was reminding himself who he was tasting, taking pleasure in the knowledge that it was _Kakashi_ who filled him. 

Or, Obito could be right and Kakashi was an arrogant egotist, reading far too much into a few tender looks just to satisfy his own self-worth. That was more likely.

While it wasn’t Iruka’s first time, it wasn’t his hundredth, either. He controlled his gag reflex well enough to take Kakashi in all the way for a short time, but had to pull off after a few bobs of his head, throat closing beautifully around Kakashi on the way out as if he was straining not to choke. It was an irregular enough rhythm that Kakashi only edged the line of climax without strong threat of falling over. 

Which was good. If Iruka was this gorgeous on his knees, Kakashi could only imagine what he would look like riding him. 

What face would he make if Kakashi asked Iruka to fuck him instead?

It seemed like Iruka was content to continue this part of the night for hours, no signs of tiring or boredom if the dark haze in his eyes and the obvious bulge in his undone pants were anything to go by. But eventually Kakashi started to feel electricity sliding up his spine, and his hands had mapped every part of Iruka he could reach from this angle. The teacher’s hair was disheveled and frizzy in places from the static generated by Kakashi’s worshipful ministrations. His jaw had to hurt, too, although he wasn’t showing it. His breathing was coming faster than Kakashi’s, chest rising and falling with each stroke of his swollen lips. 

He looked debauched, reckless, and miles from the person Kakashi had ever seen behind the mission desk. 

Hair ties and propriety had a lot to answer for.

“Iruka,” Cupping his jaw, Kakashi ran a thumb down the curve of his throat, feeling the tight flex as Iruka swallowed around him. Kakashi shivered and wrapped his fingers around the nape of Iruka’s neck, gently pulling him back. The teacher got the message and sat back, looking up at Kakashi with glazed eyes. “Amazing as this is, I’d really like to touch you at some point.”

Iruka’s expression flashed between so many things in the span of a single second that Kakashi would have needed the sharingan to categorize anything but the highlights: shock, elation, befuddlement. 

Iruka settled on an amused snort. “You’ve been touching me incessantly this whole time, Kakashi-sensei.” He pointed out, plucking at a strand of hair that had fallen in front of his face as if to illustrate. 

“Maa, ‘incessantly’ seems like a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?” Iruka’s raised brow was distinctly dubious. Kakashi quickly continued. “Where do you keep the lube?”

Iruka hesitated before nodding towards the nightstand. He started removing the wraps around his own legs while Kakashi rummaged in the drawer, quickly finding a half-full tube. Iruka stepped out of his pants as he stood, surprisingly graceful for how long he had spent on his knees, and kicked them hastily away to kneel on the bed. Holding out a hand for the lube, he gave Kakashi a confused glance when it wasn’t offered. 

“Can I prepare you?” 

Iruka raised a hand to rub at his scar, looking down. Somehow, he seemed more self-conscious because of that question than the arousal that strained heavy and red between his thighs, already fully hard and gleaming with precum despite not yet touching himself. Kakashi would know; he hadn’t looked away from Iruka even once.

“You don’t have to.” Iruka muttered, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

Kakashi eyed Iruka for a moment, weighing whether Iruka honestly didn’t want him to, or if it was just another way in which he was trying to anticipate Kakashi’s desires. He didn’t like the idea of the latter. For some reason, a reserved Iruka no longer sat right with him. “Neither of us have to do any of this, sensei. But I’d like to, if you’ll let me.” He answered quietly.

He must have made the right choice, because Iruka gave a short huff but flopped onto his back. His hair spilled like ink on the green pillow case, shoulders flexing as he raised his arms to rest crossed above his head. Lifting his hips to let Kakashi slide a pillow under them, he watched with warm brown eyes as Kakashi popped the cap. 

Kakashi was distracted for a moment by Iruka bending and spreading his knees for Kakashi to kneel between them. He took a deep breath to remind himself not to rush while he spread the slick across his fingers and shuffled in close. Almost immediately, Kakashi recognized the unscented plastic scent of the lube as what greeted him when he entered the room.

Resting one hand under Iruka’s thigh, Kakashi turned his head to nip at the taut muscle, sharp canines scraping skin through the thin fabric of the mask. Iruka yelped, either from that, or Kakashi’s finger circling his rim. Kakashi intended to go slowly, to take his sweet time spreading Iruka open, but the first finger slid in with almost no resistance. 

Ah. That was why the scent was so strong.

Either Iruka had been busy fucking every jōnin in Konoha for the last few days, or he prepared himself before looking for Kakashi. 

Kakashi definitely knew which reason he preferred. 

He paused and raised both brows. Iruka used a forearm to cover his eyes, mortified heat spreading a pretty flush down his chest. 

“Eager?” Kakashi was oddly delighted by the thought of Iruka fingering himself open in the same spot only a few hours before, anticipating Kakashi coming home with him. 

Iruka made a sharp sound and moved his arm to glare. “Says the one who couldn’t wait to move on.” He snapped. 

Kakashi’s eye grew wide, as did Iruka’s. For a moment, Kakashi thought he genuinely fucked up, but Iruka didn’t push him off. Instead, he bit his lip and looked away in embarrassment. 

_Cute_.

The thought startled a chuckle from Kakashi, eye crinkling in mirth. “Sorry, sorry. Feel free to discipline me later, sensei.” 

Except there wouldn’t be a later.

Opening his mouth to respond, no doubt bitingly, Kakashi distracted Iruka by pushing a second finger into him and curling both forward. His hips wiggled down until Kakashi was knuckles deep, reticence apparently forgotten. He made a low sound when Kakashi found his prostate and stroked it with firm pressure. 

“F-fuck,” Iruka stuttered as Kakashi fit the third finger inside. The curse sounded doubly obscene from the prim schoolteacher, travelling through Kakashi’s veins to throb in his belly. 

How many people had heard Iruka like that?

He pressed his teeth to Iruka’s thigh once more before twisting his fingers sharply, drawing a gasp. A particularly lickable scar ran in the crease of Iruka’s thigh and hip. Kakashi made do tracing it with his fingers, because taking off the mask would mean blindfolding Iruka, and Kakashi got a thrill from the desire in those eyes as they trailed over Kakashi’s body. 

Like he was something to look at. Like he was something Iruka wanted to remember long after tonight.

Kakashi had to swallow hard before he could force levity from his throat. “Maa, if you insist.”

He withdrew and slicked himself, keeping his strokes short and perfunctory because he’d been hard for long enough that he was starting to get concerned about blowing too early. Maybe he should have let Iruka finish the blowjob and taken a refractory period while prepping him.

That hadn’t occurred to Kakashi at the time. He had never before had a partner that he wanted to stick around after the first.

Tearing the pillow away, Iruka raised up on his knees. “I really do. Sit back, please.” He said, more order than request despite the formality, pushing Kakashi unceremoniously to the head of the bed. Kakashi never saw much appeal in the teacher kink before, but he could definitely get behind the authoritative tone in Iruka’s demand. He quickly complied, adjusting a few pillows until he was reclining in a mostly-upright position. That would give him more freedom to touch than laying flat would. 

Iruka didn’t question it. He crawled over and braced one hand on Kakashi’s shoulder. The other trailed leisurely down his collarbone, skimming restlessly across Kakashi’s skin. 

He sat back to grind against Kakashi’s cock, making no attempt to take it inside yet, all teasing pressure. Kakashi slid his hands back to fondle Iruka’s ass, thumbs rubbing against Iruka’s hips while he massaged the firm muscle and traced his fingertips between the rounded cheeks. Iruka tilted his head back and sighed, rocking back into Kakashi’s hands. 

Kakashi was so entranced that he startled when Iruka tweaked his nipple. He would never admit to the high-pitched noise that squeezed past his throat. Iruka’s mischievous grin said he wouldn’t forget. 

An hour before, Kakashi had run through a list of adjective he ascribed to Iruka, and wondered how they could possibly fit with sex. 

There was one that he had never applied before, to either the person or the act. It floated through his mind like a new jutsu: completely unexpected and likely unnecessary, but memorized and unforgettable after experiencing it. 

Sex with Iruka was _fun_.

That brought Kakashi to a very important realization.

“You’re the one who covered Boar and Lizard in gold glitter.”

All motion stopped. Iruka’s smile fell into a frown and he cocked his head uncertainly. “Uh. Those are… ANBU codenames?” A crease formed between his brows as he thought. Kakashi regretted disrupting Iruka’s rhythm, but he couldn’t feel too bad with his cock nestled snugly between Iruka’s cheeks. Perhaps he would last longer if they sat like this for a while. “Were those the Sandaime’s guard, or the ones doing rounds in the Eastern sector?”

Kakashi blinked. “You’ve pranked more than one set of ANBU?” 

“Um, maybe. I wasn’t targeting ANBU specifically, they just happened to fall for it. Though come to think of it, I don’t think it was glitter the second time.” Iruka coughed and took a hand away to rub at his scar. That wasn’t good at all. Kakashi grabbed the hand and placed it back on his own shoulder, pressing his own against Iruka’s knuckles to keep it there. Iruka stared, but made no effort to move again. “Should I be insulted, or do you always bring up your partner’s adolescent transgressions during sex?”

“Ah, it’s a kink of mine.” Kakashi squeezed Iruka’s ass and used the leverage to grind him against Kakashi’s very much still present interest. The blush quickly returned to Iruka’s cheeks. “I was just confirming something.”

“That jōnin are just as eccentric as they pretend to be?” Iruka muttered, but he started moving again, rocking into Kakashi and raking blunt nails down his chest, brushing a nipple once more. 

Kakashi hummed in agreement to both the renewed action and the comment. “It’s a defense mechanism to hide our fragile egos.” He slid one palm from Iruka’s ass to the small of his back, pulling him forward. A thick ridge of scar tissue interrupted the smooth expanse, but Iruka showed no signs of being bothered, so Kakashi didn’t take try to avoid it. Iruka’s cock brushed against his abdomen, leaving a thin smear of precum on his skin. “I believe I just found a large piece of the puzzle that is Iruka-sensei.”

“Oh?” Iruka asked breathlessly, rocking back until his softened rim caught against Kakashi’s arousal.

Kakashi smiled, unreasonably smug in his revelation, even as his pelvis jerked reflexively, seeking more of the slick friction. He leaned forward, pressing them together flush, masked lips brushing the shell of Iruka’s ear. “Yes. But for now… I really want to be inside you, Iruka.”

Fingers dug into Kakashi’s shoulder as Iruka swallowed thickly, audible in the lack of space between them. He didn’t move away as he responded, low and teasing. “Eager?”

Kakashi huffed an amused breath. 

He was correct. 

Umino Iruka was actually a hell of a shinobi behind that simple chūnin exterior. The entire night had been a perfectly executed ambush, from start to finish. 

Just outside the Jōnin Standby Station had been the ambush site. It was optimum due to Kakashi’s scheduled exit time, lack of dawdlers on the street outside, and its close proximity to the Academy, which Kakashi presumed served as Iruka’s objective rally point—an excellent choice since he could wait there, even late in the evening, without arousing suspicion. The strike zone itself was where the streets to Iruka’s apartment and the Jōnin barracks diverged, both serving to pressure Kakashi into making a quick decision, and providing a fast escape route in case Iruka was rejected. 

The assault element was Iruka’s proposition, and it was a flawless surprise attack. The support elements were whatever Iruka had decided were probable conditions for success. Likely, they included removing any suspicion Kakashi had regarding his motives, assuring Kakashi that he only required one night, and arousing Kakashi’s interest enough to secure at least a tentative acceptance. 

That last part played perfectly into both Iruka and Kakashi’s personalities: Iruka was a closet hellion who loved causing trouble and catching people off-guard, while Kakashi was secretly a very curious person. Given Iruka’s lack of reaction when Kakashi said he had never viewed Iruka sexually, the chūnin must have known that already. Having the information thrust at Kakashi so suddenly and bluntly was bound to raise his curiosity, if he had any basic physical interest. 

Which he did. Very much.

Iruka held his gaze as he scooted back and grabbed the lube, coating Kakashi again in slow, firm strokes. The gleam in those cinnamon-bark irises, the flush on his cheeks, the way his gaze sought every inch of Kakashi’s face… proved that there was still emotion there. He might have enjoyed surprising Kakashi with a sudden proposition, and he might have utilized some tactical advantages, but none of Kakashi’s suppositions had been false.

Iruka wanted him. 

For whatever, crazy reason.

And the idea of being so skillfully, strategically maneuvered, without any actual ill intent, or even lies… was somehow incredibly erotic. 

Perhaps Kakashi was more than a little strange. 

But apparently, Iruka was willing to work with that.

They watched each other as Iruka slowly enveloped Kakashi in his heat. 

The pressure was luxurious, and torturously slow. Kakashi’s nails left half-moon marks on slender hips as Iruka took his time descending. Kakashi fought a sudden, hedonistic urge to roll them over, to pin Iruka down and drive into him and take everything that Iruka was willing to give. But there was something to be said for this, too. 

Iruka was gorgeous. A fine sheen of sweat stuck strands of hair to the line of his neck. His scar scrunched up and muscles tensed as he controlled his descent. 

A sigh clicked in his throat when he sank down fully, his rear settled in the cradle of Kakashi’s pelvis. 

For a long moment, all Iruka did was stare. Kakashi had no idea what he saw, what he could have possibly seen to start all of this at all. It didn’t matter. Iruka knew. Desire and something painfully tender combined in his eyes, a heady potion that flooded Kakashi’s senses until there was nothing but _Iruka_. 

Iruka gave a wide, wicked smile, and then they started to move. 

The pace was languid, each stroke deep and unhurried. Kakashi savored every slick glide, the sweet drag as Iruka rose on powerful thighs. His own muscles were heavy from chakra exhaustion, but Iruka wouldn’t let him do the work, anyway. He lifted up high when Kakashi tried to increase the tempo, narrowing his eyes in admonishment until Kakashi could only swallow and let Iruka take back control. 

He worked to give back in other ways. His fingers slid through the tears of moisture at the small of Iruka’s back. He splayed his hand wide over Iruka’s trapezius to feel the muscles undulate as he shifted, the strength as he rose and fell. He scratched pale lines into Iruka’s thighs, drawing a shiver and a quiet moan. 

“Can I…?” Iruka asked breathlessly, tugging on the upper edge of Kakashi’s hitai-ate, far from his mask.

It took a second of thought before Kakashi nodded. Iruka’s lips twitched up and he slid the cloth free, setting it gently on the bed beside them. Kakashi didn’t open the sharingan, but Iruka didn’t seem to care about that, or even the scar that bisected his eye.

Iruka got his revenge for Kakashi’s onslaught to his hair by shoving his own fingers deep into silver strands, the other hand braced on Kakashi’s shoulder for stability. He tugged on them experimentally and his smile broadened, pleased as a cheshire cat, when Kakashi shuddered, electric want curling in his toes.

Kakashi never thought he had a thing for hair before today, but then, he also didn’t think he had a thing for prim and proper chūnin school teachers. Apparently, he had been very wrong about a great number of things. 

Including what it would feel like to have someone look at him with such unbridled intensity. 

Many people had cared for Kakashi throughout his life. Far more than he had ever deserved. Tenzō, Guy, Minato, Kushina, Rin, Sakumo—probably his mother, although he was too young when she died to remember. All of them had tried to give something to Kakashi, and he was either too stubborn, too foolish, or too late, to accept it. 

Obito had hated him for most of their relationship, with good reason. By the time he came to view Kakashi as a friend, he was already dead. Kakashi had already failed him.

As far as lovers went, they were just soldiers like him that had an itch to scratch, an adrenaline rush to come down from. They were nothing but convenient, and Kakashi was the same to them. It was comfortable that way.

He had nothing to give anyone. He couldn’t be the person Minato wanted him to be, not until it was too late. He couldn’t follow Sakumo’s example until Obito showed him the way. He couldn’t accept Rin’s love when he knew he didn’t deserve it. He couldn’t be the rival Guy desired when he wasn’t a quarter as honorable. He couldn’t be the leader Tenzō admired, not when Tenzō was better than him in every conceivable way.

There was no telling what exactly Iruka wanted. It probably wasn’t something Kakashi could give, either. 

But right now, he wasn’t asking. Right now, he was warm and solid in Kakashi’s arms. Right now, he was giving and taking all by himself, and Kakashi had no idea if Iruka would regret this in the morning, but he hoped he didn’t. Kakashi thought that, just for tonight, maybe he could do something without the worry of failure. 

He couldn’t fail when they were using different rules.

Iruka was beautiful, an intense force all on his own. The push and pull of their movements surged like the tide in the ocean. Kakashi felt the white froth riding the waves in the slick rub of skin against skin. He saw the power of the sea in Iruka’s eyes, his thighs, his lips, and he wanted to claim it for himself. 

Tonight, he could. 

“Close your eyes, Iruka.” Kakashi whispered. It was nearly indiscernible through the tightness of his throat, but Iruka complied without question. Then Kakashi was ripping his mask down and surging forward to taste. 

He didn’t use his tongue to ask for entry, or tease Iruka into gasping, or any of the other things he had read about kissing in smutty romance novels, because Iruka’s lips were already parted. Iruka was the one who took the lead, who groaned into the kiss and licked into Kakashi’s mouth and devoured him whole. Kakashi felt like he was melting, incredible heat surrounding him from all angles, and all he wanted to do was drown himself in Iruka and never come out. 

Fingers slid down to caress his throat beneath the bunched fabric of the mask. Kakashi checked, but Iruka’s eyes were still closed and he made no attempt to feel Kakashi’s face. He took what Kakashi gave, eagerly, but asked for nothing more. 

Kakashi wanted to feel like he had something to give.

He had learned too much tonight, about himself and Iruka. 

One of the more pleasant of those revelations was that Iruka _loved_ to kiss. 

Kakashi had only kissed once before. He had thought that one time was enough to learn the technique. But Iruka was in a class all his own. 

Every other action, Iruka had prolonged and savored. In kissing, he was passion unleashed, all restraint grinding to dust beneath Kakashi’s lips.

He sucked on Kakashi’s tongue and sighed into his mouth. When Kakashi tugged Iruka’s lower lip between his canines, Iruka gave his first real, unabashed moan, and forgot to move, stilling with the entirety of Kakashi’s length inside of him. Then he jerked and ground into Kakashi’s lap, as if he was trying to meld their bodies without the use of a jutsu. 

Hell, Kakashi wouldn’t complain if he was. Except he had gone through a lot with Iruka’s mouth already, and he could feel the tight clench in his balls telling him he was far too close. 

It would be nice to blame it on the fact that Kakashi hadn’t had company other than his fist for over two years, or the novelties of unclothed sex and kissing.

Really, it was just Iruka.

He nearly flipped them over to finish the job himself, but that wasn’t what Iruka said he wanted. Kakashi wanted to make Iruka happy.

Just for tonight. 

Instead, he closed his hand around Iruka’s erection, using a thumb to spread slick precum over the head and shaft. That got Iruka moving again. He made a keening sound in the back of his throat and, after an enticing thrust by Kakashi, finally started to speed up. He didn’t stop kissing Kakashi, though, not until their pace was almost as fast as Kakashi’s heart rate, and Iruka’s breathing grew too shaky for coordination. Then, he simply pressed their lips together in unmoving, melting heat.

Kakashi matched his strokes to Iruka’s movements as best he could, and twined his other hand in the ends of Iruka’s hair, valiantly resisting the urge to tug. Much. Iruka tried to chase Kakashi’s lips when he started to pull back, fingers clenching on Kakashi’s bicep and neck, lids still shut tight. 

Kakashi might have chuckled if he had any air in his lungs that wasn’t light with sage and silicone and musk. He buried his face in Iruka’s neck. There, it wouldn’t matter if Iruka accidentally opened his eyes or not. There, Kakashi could smell every nuance of Iruka’s scent, could taste the ocean salt on golden skin and scrape his teeth against Iruka’s pulse. 

“You can mark me,” Iruka gasped between breaths.

A brief flash of reason told Kakashi he shouldn’t, that he needed to draw the line at some point. But the pleasure was building, and Kakashi knew Iruka wore high-necked shirts that would hide any mark, and the thought of Iruka’s fingers pressing against the lingering bruise after he left Konoha, remembering Kakashi’s mouth placing it there… 

It was fine if Iruka asked for it. Wasn’t it? Iruka wanted this. He wanted _Kakashi_ to touch him like this.

Iruka was close. Kakashi could feel his muscles pulling taut, hear the tension and desperation in his voice as he tipped his head back, long hair falling across Kakashi’s cheek. Kakashi was closer. 

He squeezed his eye shut and pressed a strained question into Iruka’s skin. “Can I come inside you?”

Iruka’s entire body trembled. His nails dug into Kakashi’s shoulder, bright spots of pain like fireworks. “ _Yes_. Yes, Kakashi, _please_ —” 

Kakashi bit into the junction of Iruka’s neck, and sucked. His hips stuttered reflexively, sending Iruka off rhythm, but it didn’t matter. Kakashi was already there. His eyes squeezed shut so hard that his vision turned red. 

His orgasm was pulled from him, consumed by Iruka, whose hand curled around Kakashi’s on his own cock. Together, they stroked three, four, five more times, and then he was clenching and fluttering around Kakashi, drawing out small shocks of pleasure that extended Kakashi’s release endlessly. Iruka spilled into Kakashi’s fist, thighs trembling and breath seizing. 

Kakashi stroked in small movements while Iruka came down, until he made a disgruntled noise from sensitivity. He clasped his fingers with Kakashi’s, unheeding of the come staining them, and pulled them off to rest together on his own thigh. He didn’t rise, and Kakashi made no effort to move him. 

Nuzzling into Iruka’s hair, Kakashi breathed him in and licked a broad, soothing stripe across the bruised flesh he had claimed. Iruka shivered, a low sound vibrating in his chest. Kakashi could swear it was a purr. 

Iruka leaned back. 

With all the reflexes of an excellent shinobi who had been hiding their face since four years old, Kakashi pulled his mask back into position long before Iruka retreated far enough to see. Iruka’s eyes were closed, though. He waited a full second before opening them, as if Kakashi needed the time. 

The expectation in Iruka’s expression made Kakashi’s heart stop with a sudden jolt of terror. 

He had fucked up again. 

He didn’t know how, but he must have, because Iruka was looking at him as if he was waiting for something, and Kakashi had _no clue what_. This was the part where Kakashi’s experience left him for dead, where his horrible ineptitude in all things interpersonal was going to come to light and Iruka would tell him exactly how Kakashi had disappointed him. 

Kakashi watched people. He saw their pain, and he often understood it, but he didn’t _fix_ it. He was never supposed to touch. Everything he touched burned to the ground. Sasuke was just his latest failure, just another sign that Kakashi was meant to live as a tool, a true shinobi, seeing but never seen. He had understood what Sasuke was going through better than anyone else in the village could hope to, and yet all he did was drive Sasuke away. He would drive Iruka away, too, somehow.

But…

Iruka smiled.

There were no sharp edges. Nothing brittle, nothing thin, nothing tremulous, nothing broken. It was nice. It was satisfied. It was just a smile. It softened his eyes and pinked his cheeks and blew away every single frantic idea from Kakashi’s mind. 

People didn’t smile at Kakashi. Not really. Some of the jōnin teased him, Sakura pretended to be cute, or Guy gave him the stock Nice Guy Pose that included eerily glinting teeth. 

But no one smiled _because_ of Kakashi.

Kakashi didn’t make people happy.

Iruka looked happy.

Carefully, he slid off Kakashi’s lap, wincing as he collapsed into an undignified heap on the other side of the bed. His eyes drooped to half-lidded, body supine and lax. Kakashi was frozen in place. Though Iruka’s smile dropped into tired lines, he didn’t seem upset. His gaze traveled over Kakashi’s nude form like a lazy wanderer. 

Sweat and semen cooled on Kakashi’s abdomen, lube sticky on his thighs. 

After a few shaky seconds in which Iruka’s eyes steadily slid closer to shut, Kakashi scooted to the edge of the bed and stood on shaky legs.

Finding the bathroom, he efficiently wiped himself clean with a cold cloth. He decided to let the sink run long enough to heat before wetting another for Iruka. 

To distract himself, he looked around the bathroom.

The grout shone pure white, indicating this room was cleaned more regularly than the rest of the apartment. The tub was spacious and held multiple self-care products, including shampoo and conditioner that, sure enough, were advertised as herbal. A quick check of the ingredients showed oil of sage and bay leaf. His soap and shaving cream were unscented. Every item was, while far from exorbitant, more expensive and luxurious than Kakashi’s bland all-in-one shampoo-conditioner-soap. 

Multiple sets of towels sat on a bamboo rack, some old and worn, some fluffy and absorbent. Kakashi would bet the former were used when blood or mud were likely to stain the others. Considering the rest of the apartment showed a frugal personality and second-hand goods, Kakashi would bet hygiene was Iruka’s one area of extravagance. 

Kakashi could envision Iruka reclining in the tub, steam clinging to his skin and hair darkened to black with water. He could see Iruka sighing in pleasure as the heat relaxed his muscles, see him leaning into Kakashi, who would sit behind him, massaging Iruka’s shoulders and scalp until he nearly fell asleep. Then Kakashi would snake his hands to the front. He would glide over Iruka’s pectorals, his light brown nipples, the planes of his abdomen, until he could stroke Iruka to hardness. 

Or it could be the other way around. Iruka was a caring type, wasn’t he? He would welcome Kakashi after a long mission, soft and sleep-warm, and stumble out of bed to draw a bath. He would complain if Kakashi got blood on the floor, but he would be careful when he used a ratty towel to clean Kakashi off, his touch tender. The phantom memory of Iruka’s fingers in Kakashi’s hair came back with tantalizing solidity. He imagined Iruka rubbing his shampoo into silver strands, imagined his calloused hands sliding over Kakashi’s scars like they weren’t there, healing internal wounds and caressing his thighs until he reached Kakashi’s entrance. Kakashi would relax easily, already used to taking Iruka inside of him. 

In the disappointingly real world, the sink water finally ran warm.

Iruka’s mirror was large and spotless. Kakashi caught his own reflection as he started to turn away. 

His hair was always wild, but Iruka’s fingers had left damp streaks in it, sticking it up even more oddly than usual. His pale skin was flushed pink, making the scar over Obito’s eye stand out in cruel relief. The mask clung uncomfortably to his nose and throat, moist with sweat.

It smelled like Iruka. 

There were no marks on his person that he could see other than already fading nail impressions on his shoulder. No signs of sex that couldn’t be washed away in his own shower within the hour. 

All of Kakashi’s marks were internal.

When he re-entered the bedroom, he realized the same couldn’t be said for Iruka. His eyes were closed, one hand resting loosely on his stomach. The other pressed fingertips lightly into the bruise on his neck, already staining his skin a dark wine-red. It would last at least a week unless Iruka healed it, more if he kept prodding it the way he was now. There were dents from Kakashi’s blunt nails on his hips, light red scratches on his thighs, and his hair framed his face in a tangled mess. 

Kakashi wondered if Iruka would let him brush it, if he asked. 

The answer was immediate and obvious: yes. 

Iruka sleepily looked up as he stepped closer to the bed. For a moment, Kakashi wasn’t sure whether he should offer the washcloth to Iruka or clean the man himself—he never had in his quick post-mission fucks—but Iruka held out a hand, so Kakashi deposited it and stepped to the corner of the room to don his clothes. 

He didn’t know what he was waiting for, but he dressed slowly compared to his usual, conscious of Iruka watching. He turned to the wall to switch his back-up mask with the one built in to his shirt. 

It didn’t smell nearly as good.

It was while he was sitting in the reading chair, re-winding his thigh wrap, that Iruka finally spoke. 

“Thank you, Kakashi-sensei.”

Looking up, Kakashi tried to decipher any negative intent in the mild tone. He found none. Iruka’s expression was open, a smile tugging at his lips. 

Kakashi’s face heated.

“Maa…” He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck awkwardly, looking down at the floor. “It was both of our pleasures, I think.” 

It didn’t feel right to be thanked. It didn’t feel right to leave, either, but staying the night wasn’t something Kakashi had ever done before, and he knew how Iruka might interpret it. 

The same way he might interpret the way Kakashi wanted to brush his hair and fall asleep with the scent of sage and bay leaf surrounding him. 

“Are you planning to keep my hair tie?” Iruka asked suddenly, a hint of amusement in his voice. Kakashi glanced at the thin black band wrapped around his wrist. 

“Mm, yeah.” Kakashi grabbed his gloves and tugged them on, flipping the hair tie between hands so he didn’t lose it. “I’m holding it prisoner for crimes against the citizens of Konoha.”

Iruka’s brows rose and he tilted his head to the side, face caught between humor, puzzlement, and slight offense. “What are the charges?”

Kakashi smiled, twirling the band around his forefinger like a kunai. “Perjury and willful concealment.”

For a moment, Kakashi thought Iruka’s scale was tipping towards offense, but then he huffed and shook his head, lips thinning in a way that made Kakashi think he was holding back a grin. “You know, if I’d realized you had such a thing for long hair, I would have started wearing mine down years ago.”

Kakashi’s thumb caught the hair band, halting its revolution. 

“Years?”

Iruka looked away, raising a hand to scrub at his scar in a nervous tick. “Actually, that’s a lie.”

Kakashi kept his face blank while sharp guilt and a giddy rush competed for rights to the space behind his navel. 

“I wouldn’t have worn it down all the time. I’m used to it up, and I have to protect it from pre-genin armed with shuriken and mud somehow.” Iruka continued, gaze flicking over to Kakashi before lowering to the bedspread. He gave a would-be-casual shrug. “Maybe just occasionally, when you were around.”

Iruka had been imagining this for _years_. Kakashi had taken it in a single night, selfishly and cavalierly. He should have asked more questions before accepting, should have figured out exactly how deep Iruka’s feelings lay. He hadn’t, because he hadn’t wanted to know. He had just wanted Iruka. 

And now, he wanted Iruka in even more ways. Ways that he couldn’t have; not because Iruka wouldn’t give them to him, but because he _would_. He would, and Kakashi would take greedy advantage of that. 

Kakashi was out of the village more often than not. He was hospitalized half the time he returned, and even when he wasn’t, he wouldn’t know how to do any of the things he imagined. He didn’t know how to hold someone in a soft, comfortable bed. He didn’t know how to share his space, didn’t know how to comfort someone who was grieving. And there was always grief in their world. He didn’t know how to tell someone else that he cared, or how to cherish someone properly while still serving his village. He didn’t know how to accept help himself.

Kakashi would be a disappointing partner, at best.

“You don’t have to look so guilty.” Iruka drew his knees up to his chest under the covers, crossing his arms over and resting his chin on them. He watched Kakashi with steady eyes. “It’s not like I’m hopelessly in love with you.”

The kunai that twisted sharply in Kakashi’s ribs wasn’t disappointment. Definitely not. There was nothing to be disappointed about. In fact, that should be a relief.

“I’m not going to be miserable without you, and I’m not going to pine away until one of us dies. So you didn’t take advantage of me.” He cleared his throat and shrugged. “I just care about you. I’m happy when I’m watching you, or listening to you. I want to be close to you. I’d like to understand you, and be someone you could rely on. At least once, I thought that I wanted you to see me as well. Now I guess you have.”

He said it like it was an easy conclusion, like it was as incontrovertible as _chidori plus heart equals death_. Like he hadn’t just said basically everything Kakashi had ever associated with _love_. As if Kakashi wouldn’t rip himself apart if he tried to express even half of that.

But Iruka didn’t look heartbroken. Embarrassed, perhaps. He ran his fingers through his hair in a way that was geared towards working out knots than any attempt to entice, and purposefully didn’t meet Kakashi’s eye, letting him take in the information at his own pace without judgement or pressure. 

He finished working out a particularly stubborn kink. Kakashi wanted to put it right back in. 

“Why me?”

Iruka looked up at him. “You threw out Naruto’s expired milk.” 

Kakashi blinked. “You admire my housekeeping skills?”

“No.” Iruka’s nose wrinkled. Kakashi blamed too much time around his pack for the strange desire to lick it. “I mean, you brought him fresh vegetables.”

“Ah.” He made a noise of happy understanding. “So you were impressed by the size of my—”

“Don’t!”

“I was going to say ‘heart’.”

Iruka scowled, flushed red as an Uzumaki’s hair. “It’s not attractive to be deliberately obtuse, Kakashi-sensei.” 

“That can’t be right. I think we have ample evidence of your attraction to me.” Kakashi’s face dropped into serious lines. “Iruka-sensei, you’ve done far more for Naruto than I did for all of Team Seven combined. And, I was only assigned to them a year ago.”

Lips flattening into a stubborn line, Iruka leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “You didn’t ask what _started_ my interest in you. Those were just examples. If you can’t figure it out from that, then you’re not half the genius Konoha thinks you to be.”

Kakashi was beginning to agree with that.

He thought the goal of the ambush had been reached, but this felt suspiciously like stall tactics. He just wasn’t sure which one of them was stalling. 

“Asking someone out for tea is also a generally accepted way of getting their attention. Or, there are some _Icha Icha_ inspired outfits on the market these days. I think Akemi’s clothing from the castle scene in _Violence_ would—”

Shaking his head, Iruka gave Kakashi an exasperated-yet-impatiently-amused look that he had seen the teacher direct at his students more than once. It wasn’t comforting that Kakashi ranked on the same scale as Naruto. “Let’s assume I have at least an ounce of dignity. And as for tea…” He picked at a loose thread on the comforter, chewing his lip in a thoughtful way that made Kakashi envious of it. “I could always handle rejection, but… I don’t think I would have been ready for you to accept.”

Kakashi heard the unspoken _‘me’_ at the end.

“And you are now?”

Iruka smiled.

It didn’t seem fair that Iruka was the one in something-not-quite-love, and yet Kakashi was the one who felt as though he was shaking from the weight of the possibilities before him. 

Calling on years of impeccable self-control, Kakashi reigned himself in before he could jump off the deep-end into a pool of lava. Information gathering was a shinobi’s greatest defense. 

“But why—”

“That’s not really the business of a one-night stand, is it, Kakashi-sensei?” Iruka interrupted. 

He was so gentle that it took a few seconds for the sting and understanding to hit Kakashi at once. 

Then, the message was clear. 

Kakashi was peeling Iruka open, examining his internal workings like exploratory surgery. But Iruka’s feelings weren’t there for Kakashi’s casual perusal. Not if he didn’t accept them. Iruka would give Kakashi his body, for a night, and tender affection, and as much honesty as was necessary to relieve Kakashi’s burden of guilt at the idea of callously toying with Iruka’s heart. But he owed Kakashi nothing else, just as Kakashi owed nothing to Iruka. What was it that he had said at the very beginning?

_‘You are free to feel, or not, whatever you please.’_

Iruka’s thoughts and emotions were his own. Iruka was giving by nature, caring to a fault, but he wouldn’t hand his vulnerabilities to someone who gave no indication they would protect them. 

That was why he didn’t call it love, Kakashi realized. At the present, there was no commitment between them. No reciprocation besides the physical. What Iruka held wasn’t love, but the potential for it. The willingness to try. 

It was Kakashi’s choice.

If he left without another word, Iruka would move on. It might take weeks, or months, or years, but eventually he would find someone who could give him what he wanted.

Relationships weren’t weaknesses. Iruka said it all at the Sandaime’s funeral: ties with others were what made the sacrifice of a shinobi worth it. Without bonds, without love, without the Will of Fire, there was nothing to die for. Nothing to live for. The problem was that Kakashi’s threads tended to be cut by his own hand. He didn’t want that for anyone, much less someone as good and kind as Iruka. He didn’t want to see Iruka with a burning hole in his chest where his heart used to be. 

_Maybe that wouldn’t happen._

Iruka was strong, more than anyone gave him credit for. He opened himself to Kakashi, but not recklessly. 

If Kakashi wasn’t enough for him, he would say. If Kakashi was a cold, unbearable bastard, Iruka would kick him to the curb. If Kakashi came back broken and bruised from a mission, Iruka might have the compassion to fix him before things got so bad that destruction was inevitable. 

Maybe it would work.

Did Kakashi want it to?

This had been nice. Kakashi could admit that. He could also admit that “nice” was a painfully bland adjective compared to what he wanted to use. But one night of good sex didn’t change Kakashi’s view of himself. He needed time. Time to think without endorphins and serotonin clouding his system. 

Iruka was creative and intelligent. He used cunning without intent to harm. Despite appearances, he cared so little for a meaningless reputation that he would argue with the Sandaime and Copy-nin alike, and take in a child that all else feared or loathed. Kakashi knew that Iruka was fierce and welcoming and, for some unknown reason, he wanted Kakashi. Apparently even learning what a shitty person and teacher Kakashi was hadn’t changed that.

Umino Iruka had an unparalleled capacity for love.

Kakashi knew a lot of things about Umino Iruka. 

Maybe it wasn’t that Kakashi had never seen him before. Maybe he hadn’t missed the warmth in Iruka’s eyes.

Kakashi just never imagined he could have it.

Now, he imagined.

“How long is your mission?”

“It’s supposed to be about six weeks.” Iruka replied.

Probably an escort mission, then. That was a lengthy time for someone who had barely left Konoha for the last five years, but it meant he would have a team of other chūnin with him. That was good. Kakashi had no doubt Iruka worked well in a team, leading it or not. 

Attaching the kunai pouch back to his thigh wrap, Kakashi stood and took a few steps towards the window. His years of practiced aloofness served him well. “For the record, Iruka-sensei, I don’t have a thing for long hair.” He drawled, clicking the latch and sliding the pane up, letting in the cool night air. “I just have a thing for seeing you come undone.”

A wind jutsu was fluttering in Kakashi’s stomach, but he continued smoothly. “Six weeks sounds like too short a sentence for the gravity of the crimes, but perhaps I’ll consider letting the prisoner out on bail.” He looked over his shoulder to give Iruka a smile. “You’ll have to convince me.”

Iruka’s tongue darted out to moisten his lips, fingers clenching in the bedspread. “What types of bribes do you accept?”

Ah. Right. He hadn’t actually mentioned he was interested in more than sex yet.

Kakashi hummed thoughtfully. “I hear _Onishi’s_ finished reconstruction. I’ve always been partial to their eggplant miso.” 

He stayed just long enough to see Iruka’s grin start to stretch his cheeks. Then Kakashi was out the window, landing with the minimum amount of chakra necessary to cushion his fall, wincing at the impact. 

The basic human necessities of food and sleep weighed heavily on his body, but not his mind. That was abuzz with possibilities, spinning through pros and cons and contingency plans and foolish fantasies that even Jiraiya wouldn’t write. 

He didn’t know what he was willing to give, yet. It was entirely possible that Iruka would change his mind during the month and a half, too. If he did, it would be understandable. Kakashi could live with it.

Somehow, he knew Iruka was too stubborn for that.

While Iruka was a prankster suited to bold gambits and ambush tactics, Kakashi took a more conversative approach. He tested his opponents with clones or psychological tricks, and retreated as often as he charged. He couldn’t accept what Iruka offered without assessing it from every angle.

But he was pretty damn sure that, whatever the case, Kakashi wanted another night. He wanted to _stay_ the night. He wanted to leave another mark, and to run his fingers through Iruka’s hair. He wanted to see more sides of the man, things that no one else had. He wanted Iruka to know him, the _real_ Kakashi, and desire him anyway. 

He wanted to keep the image of that hope in Iruka’s gaze and never let it go. Never let Iruka down like he had so many others. 

Well. They each had six weeks to come to their senses. 

Kakashi really hoped they wouldn’t.


End file.
